


A Roof Over Your Head

by Inane_Rational



Series: Gold Stars [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: Blanket Forts, Gen, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inane_Rational/pseuds/Inane_Rational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim came back from a long day and needs to keep thoughts of war, enemies, and friends quiet.  Willa and Raylan help in the ways they know how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roof Over Your Head

Tim needed to lie down on the floor behind the couch, where instantly the cool floors provided a relief.

He got a call forty-eight hours ago at 15:00 by the Marshal Service’s special operations group. Someone tried to escape during their trial, and the crew that was supposed to ‘bail’ the prisoner out had fucked-up. Apparently, plan ‘B’ was to lock themselves inside the courthouse with hostages.

It was a real shitty plan that was made more difficult when it turned out some of the prisoner’s crew members were definitely former military, or were high on something. The fact that there was no real hierarchy in the group could go either way for the hostages inside.

Tim got the break down when they arrived on site, pictures of all the criminals already present on a wall, someone from DEA presenting their history, meaning there was already an investigation on this group, before the commander designated where Tim and the other snipers were setting up. 

Yet for Tim, all the information was useless, as he instantly honed in on one man that had a notable resemblance to Colton Rhodes. It was like a shot to the chest.

“Gutterson, do you have the shot?” The commander questioned over the radio, once negotiations broke down and the hostage-takers began turning on one another.

“Affirmative,” Tim answered, his target in his crosshairs. Colton Rhodes didn’t go for the ‘apricot’ when he shot Mark, the place in the brain that guaranteed the shot would be an _instant_ kill. That’s what chimed Rhodes’ funeral bell, since it gave Mark the chance to aim Tim’s sight.

“It’s a go,” crackled in his ear.

He didn’t have to take out the Colton Rhodes doppelganger. That was for the team member facing the north-side windows. Tim did watch as the body dropped.

  


Tim came back to Miami at one in the afternoon with a headache. The thoughts on Colton Rhodes were followed by Mark and his injuries, and then headed straight to the sandbox where there was dirt in his eyes and grit in his mouth. 

He knew Raylan would be at work, but Raylan’s place was better than the hollow tomb of his own apartment echoing the pounding his in head.

Tim came to the apartment, threw his duffle bag onto Raylan’s bed, and then drifted his way behind the couch. It was the safest place to be in the apartment, as it had the most cover, away from the front door, and the windows in the living room and kitchen. 

Tim gravitated to the spot behind the couch, whenever he felt cross-eyed from trying to keep his breathing steady, and the memories of long-dead friends died around him again. It was the best place to be left alone, and Raylan knew Tim wouldn’t be open for his attention until he wanted it.

He kept his back to the couch, staring at the grains of the laminated-wood flooring and concentrated on empty thoughts. Despite the headache, he could feel himself sinking into unconsciousness. 

Just a few minutes of rest, he thought to himself.

The door opening woke him up, but Raylan’s voiced soothed the instant panic, and Willa’s answer back was a safety net. 

It was Friday. He forgot that it was Raylan’s weekend with Willa. There were plans to go to the zoo and watch an amphibian show, if Tim remembered correctly.

He should probably move himself to the bedroom. Tim opened his eyes, finding the glare of the sun somehow brighter. He settled himself back down, the throbbing behind his eyes not as persistent, but still beating. Tim didn’t venture to get up again.

Raylan would understand.

“Daddy, is Tim okay?” He heard as he fell back to sleep.

  


The second time he woke up there was a pattering of feet running around him. Instinctively, Tim knew it had probably only been forty minutes, maybe less, since he last woke. The light shouldn’t be as dim as it was.

Tim cracked one eye open, and noticed there was a blanket covering him—over him, to be more accurate. Two columns made of books were almost stacked up to the height of the couch, and a blanket was draped over the books and the couch to create a tent. 

Willa had built him a blanket fort.

“Did I wake you up?” Willa was tipped from her hip, hair cascading down as she peaked into the fort she made for him.

“No. It’s time I woke up anyway,” Tim said, voice gravelled by a parched throat. “Did you make this for me?” The blanket had shooting stars going across them, happy smiles and winking like they’ll come by with another secret. Raylan would wrap Willa up in that blanket whenever she fell asleep on the couch, refusing to go to bed.

“Uh huh.” Willa got down on her belly, shuffling into the fort just that little bit till she was close enough to talk. “Daddy said I should let you sleep, but I told him I’d be very quiet.” 

“You’re a very quiet mouse.” A closer look at the book titles read a mixture of his and Raylan’s from the bookshelf. Tim indicated towards the two columns. “Trying to make something that’ll last?”

“I wanted to make what me and Stephanie did for her birthday, but Daddy didn’t have enough pillows, so I ‘improvise.’” Willa smiled proudly at her herself for using such a big word.

“A-plus,” was the only thing Tim could muster to say, the throbbing making a slow come back.

“Willa, what did I say about bothering Tim?”

“He’s awake.”

Raylan’s head peak down right above Willa. “Could you go play in your room for a few seconds? I want to talk to Tim.”

Willa hummed, thinking over Raylan’s request. “Okay,” she said breezily, after a few seconds, pushing herself out of the fort. “Be careful,” she insisted to Raylan, gesturing to her creation, before running off.

“Nice tent,” Raylan commented, taking Willa’s place.

“Your daughter made it for me,” Tim said, blinking the drowsiness from his eyes.

Raylan frowned in concern.

“I’m fine.” Tim flimsily patted Raylan’s hand.

Raylan doesn’t say anything, instead crawling his way into the fort, trying not to knock Willa’s support beams.

Tim snickered as Raylan cursed, accidently knocking a book askew and causing the blanket to waver above.

“Wait till you have to get out of this,” Raylan said.

“I’ll take you with me,” Tim said, smiling softly, still a little drowsy. He closed his eyes, letting the weight on top of him sink into his bones. Tim could feel Raylan’s gaze, checking for a sign he wouldn’t readily give.

“Are you okay?” Raylan finally asked. 

Sometimes it irked him, Raylan’s outspoken concern, as though he needed to be taken care of. But right now? Tim looked at Raylan and tried to measure his worry, tried to calculate a response.

Instead, he stayed silent as Raylan’s thumb followed and pressed down on the shape of his brows, before sliding behind to knead the base of his skull. Tim could honestly say it was the best thing he ever felt. It was like Raylan was gently quelling the noise in his head.

Tim sighed. He even hummed.

“That feel any good?” Raylan asked rhetorically, continuing to massage Tim.

“You’re doing a shitty job,” Tim said, instantaneous and brighter.

“There’s the asshole I know.” Raylan followed the same path, pressure along the brow, working the base of Tim’s skull, and doing his best to quell his own smile.

“I’d say you know my asshole pretty well.”

“You’d know.” Raylan smirked, and then went in for the kill, tilting Tim’s head so the angle was right. His lips moved slowly over Tim’s, deepening the longer the kiss continued.

“Daddy,” Willa scolded. They quickly pulled apart, looking at the angry child kneeling at the entrance of the fort, reaching to move Raylan’s foot, which was pushing against a column of books. “You’re ruining my fort.” 

There were genuine tears welling up in Willa’s eyes.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Raylan said, moving his foot away.

“Your foot has to stay there,” Willa said, adjusting the books into their proper place. “If you do that again, you’re going to have to go out of the fort.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Raylan said, not worried in the slightest.

“I made it for Tim. It’s not yours.”

“Got it.” Tim held in his laugh, watching as Raylan didn’t even bother hiding his mirth.

Willa stared at Raylan for a second, every ounce of will she had demanding the importance of her words, before disappearing. 

“When Winona scolds you, do you think it’s the same way with Willa?”

“My child can behave very adult-like,” Raylan said, purposely ignorant.

“She makes a better adult than you.”

Raylan looked at Tim with displeasure, but Tim could see the well of relief underneath. Raylan kissed him, rather than rebuff Tim’s insult. After a minute, Tim pulled back. “You kissin’ to shut me up?” He asked, licking where Raylan bit his lip.

“Just glad to see you’re doing better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I have no idea how actual tactical teams would communicate with each other when conducting an operation. So probably not the way I wrote. Also, I should probably have another look over this when I'm not sleep deprived--but too late!


End file.
